


Officer Down

by DancingInTheDark85



Category: Almost Human
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 07:50:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10355631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingInTheDark85/pseuds/DancingInTheDark85
Summary: John and Dorian respond to an 'urgent assistance' request from injured officers. To get them out, our heroes must storm a block that has been taken over by thugs and criminals, bringing back bad memories for John who has been there before. Action and whump of the John variety. Some bad language.





	

The voice on the other end of the radio had a quality to it that was enough to make your blood run cold. John had grabbed his jacket and was jogging out to the cruiser on the tone of the first syllable alone, before the rest of the office could even register what was being said.

"Carradine House." The strained voice yelled, her voice crackling with poor radio reception and feedback. "Two officers trapped, our MX's are down." A loud crack of gunfire punctuated the commentary. John was already in the car turning the ignition, ignoring the grim expression on Dorian's face, who'd barely been able to keep up with his human partner. Tyres squealed as they pulled out of the parking lot and onto the highway heading downtown.

And then the words no cop wants to hear, "Brady's hit."

John cursed and slammed the steering wheel, yanking it sharply left to weave in and out of traffic, sirens blaring. "Where in the block are you?"

More gunfire sounded over the radio before the officer answered. "Flat 6707. We're pinned down, the whole damn block has turned on us. We're almost out of ammo."

"I'm two minutes out. We're coming to get you. Just hang on." John assured her, putting his foot down on the accelerator even further. "Control, get paramedics to the RVP, which will be..." he wracked his brains for the layout streets around the block.

"Burcham St?" Dorian suggested, cutting in on the radio.

John glanced at him and gave him a satisfied nod.

Another voice, this time male cut in. "Control this is Captain Agkibe of Tactical Assault Division. I will be leading the extraction. Kennex is that you?"

"Yes Sir."

"Looks like you're gonna get there before us. Get any MX's to put up a perimeter and I'll brief you at the RVP."

"Yes Sir."

"Carradine House." Dorian said, reading his files on the subject aloud. "There have been over a thousand crimes reported at that location alone in the last year. Primarily related to drugs and gangs. Tensions with the police have always been bad. There was a riot there seven years ago in which three police officers were beaten to death by the residents. In recent weeks tensions have soared again with a number of assaults on police officers and the destruction of seven MX's. They've killed more MX's than even you John." The last comment was an attempt at a joke. Dorian had often noted that in times of stress John had a sort of macabre sense of humour. But this time it seemed little would take the grim frown from John's face.

"I was there, seven years ago. Actually, I was a part of Agkibe's tactical squad. The rioting lasted about four days, all across downtown, but Carradine was some of the worst of it, the residents kidnapped three of ours. We didn't get there in time, we pulled Diaz outta there so badly beaten that he died in the ambulance on the way to hospital. The other two, Hetfield and Jones had already had their skulls caved in. The guys on my team covered me while I stuffed them into body bags and we ran out with them slung over our shoulders. We could never prove who did it."

"I'm sorry." Dorian offered sadly, his lower lip practically quivering with emotion at the story his partner told. John had explained with a cold detachment, as though he'd managed to shut himself off from feeling anything, but Dorian knew better. The mental barriers that John had erected would only be good for as long as was needed to get the job done.

"I'm not letting that happen again." John promised, through clenched teeth. 

They pulled up on Burcham St, tucked away out of sight of the towering ugly monstrosity that was Carradine House. The block had been built almost eighty years ago, and as with a lot of buildings built around that time it was a sandy coloured concrete but stained black in places by pollution. It was ninety floors of tiny, identical two bedroom apartments, with a view of the freeway on one side and a view of the wall from the other. As with a lot of downtown blocks it was overcrowded, unemployment was high and crime was rife. Very little had been done to keep the block in good repair, it, and a lot of places close to the wall had been hit with radiation which had make it uninhabitable for a while, but when refugees started coming over the wall in droves the government needed some place to put them, and why should they be worried about a bit of residual radiation when they'd already been hit with much worse.

The irradiated blocks had gotten out of hand. For years cops had been afraid to go in them, worried that exposure would get them as sick as some of the residents. In the meantime things got worse, as people got sick with radiation cancer, they got angrier and more desperate. Feeling abandoned by the law and the healthcare system, often unable to work because of illness, whole blocks became slums, hotbeds of crime and breeding grounds for domestic terrorism. The Tactical Assault Division had been created to try and clear the worst offenders from the blocks, John had been a part of that team for three years, until Captain Maldonado, or recently promoted Lieutenant Maldonado as she had been then, had asked him to form a tactical team for her Homicide and Major Crimes Unit. In all those three years, John had felt they'd barely made a dent.

He got out of the car and went to the trunk, he shirked his jacket off and pulled out his kit belt and ballistic vest, tugging it on and securing the Velcro across the plain black top he usually wore. His workwear dress sense was definitely a habit taken from his tactical team days, Maldonado had urged him to start wearing something a bit smarter to work now that he had a more investigative role, and Paul had outright mocked him about it, but considering the frequency with which he found himself in shoot outs, he'd stuck resolutely by his choices and Maldonado at least had given up trying to change him. He couldn't think of anything more distracting than running into a firefight in a shirt and tie. He finished kitting up by grabbing a small trauma kit that clipped to his belt and strapped to his left thigh. In recent years, tac teams had android medics, they were better at diagnosing and treating injuries, but John had always kept his, just in case.

By the time that he closed the trunk, the first of the MX's started to turn up. With a few short commands John arranged for them to put in a cordon around the block to prevent anyone interfering in the extraction or getting caught in the crossfire. The remaining MX's, for there were lots of them, were going to go in with the tactical team. John hoped that Agkibe would let him tag along as well.

The radio crackled again, the female officer's voice still sounding strained. "They're breaking through our barricade, it won't hold much longer!"

"Sir, how far out are you?" John asked over the radio.

"Still another twenty minutes." Came back the reply. 

John looked at Dorian and the android already knew what he was going to say. "Lead you in?" He offered.

The pair of them drew their weapons and started jogging over to the building. "Sir," John updated, knowing that he was about to get an earful from at least one commander, if not two. "They can't wait, I have five MX's and Dorian with me, we're going in the south entrance."

There was a burst of protest, as expected, from both Agkibe and Maldonado but John wasn't listening. One of the MX's was also protesting about the recklessness of the decision, but John ignored him too. They ran across the street, Dorian just a step ahead of John, the reluctant MX's trailing behind. As they dashed toward the block, someone on the second floor opened a window and sprayed semi-automatic gunfire on them. The bullets rained down around them but they were sloppy and only served to create blackened dents in the tarmac. Dorian and John reached the shelter of the block, shoulders slamming into the wall to stop their momentum, they exchanged a look and John gave him a smirk. The adrenaline was clearly flowing in the human's veins, if you asked Dorian he would say he enjoyed these near-death experiences slightly too much. 

They were stood at either side of the glass entrance doors, their small contingent of MX's behind them, all pressed against the wall to avoid the gunfire from above. The block was accessible via electronic chip card but Dorian placed an index finger on the reader and the latch clicked open. John gave a nod and then pushed the door open. Dorian went in first, weapon raised, closely followed by John, the MX's behind them. The lobby was clear.

John dashed to the elevator and pressed the button. If they'd had the time, John would ideally have liked to take the stairs, clearing each floor as they went to avoid getting trapped, but to do that for 67 floors would take too long.

The elevator was old and slow, but the doors opened and they piled inside. It was barely big enough for the seven of them and smelled of urine and stale alcohol, enough to make John's nose wrinkle. John stabbed at the button for the 67th floor with a finger, the doors closed and they began their ascent. The elevator lurched as it started upwards but after only a few seconds they were plunged into darkness and it ground to a halt with a creak.

"Shit!" John cursed and stabbed again at the button a few times. Nothing happened. The elevator groaned and John had a sudden pang of irrational fear that they were all about to crash back down to the ground. Dorian braced his hands on the metal door and pushed, sliding the doors apart easily. 

They were caught between two floors, giving them a choice of prising open the doors on the upper floor and climbing up, easy enough for John and Dorian but the MX's would struggle, their bodies not designed to jump and haul themselves up, or they could go through to the lower floor which would be a tight squeeze in a bulky ballistic vest but at least they would all be able to go together.

"Up or down?" Dorian asked.

John rolled his eyes at the MX's, "Down."

Dorian crouched down to slide the doors apart while John and the MX's covered him. But as soon as he pushed the doors open, the metal retracting into the wall out of the way, gunfire erupted. A bullet caught Dorian in the shoulder, another into the shin of an MX but neither would slow the androids down. John stepped back and allowed the robots to return fire. There were shouts as the residents scrambled to get out of the way of the return fire, metal-enforced front doors slammed as they all hid back in their apartments, or the apartments of those who were participating in trying to oust the cops. 

Dorian jumped down into the hallway first, closely followed by John, who looked up at the apartment in front of them. 1610. So they still had 51 floors to go on foot.

"Did you see how many there were?" John asked.

"Three, teens, two males and a female, wearing hoodies and scarves over their faces." Dorian reported. "They went into Apartment 1601."

John nodded. "You and you," he pointed at two of the MX's, "gain entry, detain them and hand them over to a custody van. Then get back in here and catch us up."

"Affirmative Sir." The one designated as 103 agreed, and he and 524 approached the door.

John took off down to the stairwell at the other end of the corridor, followed by the remaining androids. When they'd cut the power to the elevator, they'd cut it to the entire block but some dim light was coming through the dirty windows in the stairwell. Sun set in an hour, at that time the darkness would give the androids the advantage, able to switch to night vision mode while the humans would have to rely on their less than perfect eyesight and knowledge of the block. John's night vision was pretty good and he'd rather wait until they got the upper hand but by then it would be too late. 

They started off up the stairs at a light jog, John resisting the urge to sprint up the stairs two at a time and Dorian and the MX's matched his speed. The adrenaline was flowing, he could have gone faster if he'd pushed himself but he'd be no good to anyone if he got to the top exhausted. They heard gunfire below them and John knew that the two MX's he'd left behind had engaged the young gang members.

"The two MX's have been taken out." Dorian announced, reading their updates. The other MX's they had with them did not react. For John and the DRN, this new information was worrying.

"Did they get any of the shooters?"

"No." Dorian confirmed. 

"103 and 524 attempted to apprehend the suspects as requested." One of the remaining androids explained. "However, although they were firing their weapons there was no immediate risk to human life therefore the MX's were unable to respond with lethal force."

"Oh for fucks sake!" John growled. "What about risk to my human life the minute they chase us up the goddamn stairs? Or the two officers barricaded and bleeding upstairs?"

They got a further five floors up before that happened. Dorian was the first to notice the click of a door and someone enter the stairwell. He alerted John with a hand on his shoulder. John nodded and they turned back to take on the three boys coming up on them. 

John leaned over the stairwell railing and saw the three thugs creeping up the stairs. "Drop your weapons, hands on your head." He shouted. "I will not hesitate to shoot you."

There was a laugh and a burst of gunfire. It came far too close to John who had to duck away to avoid a bullet to the head, but when he fired back he hit the guy square in the chest. He fell back into his friend then hit the floor and rolled down the three stairs to the landing. 

"Anyone else want to try me or are you two going to learn your lesson?" 

"Shit! Yeah dude, whatever you say."

"I want to hear your weapons hit the ground." John ground out. They did, with a clatter. John kept his weapon trained on them but with a jerk of his head he indicated to Dorian to go down.

The DRN made his way down to the two punks, they still had their faces covered but they looked young, the boy was a skinny thing, the girl a little healthier looking, with dark eye make up on and wisps of blonde hair sticking out from her hoodie. Not that that made them any less dangerous, John cautioned himself, reminding himself of his first year on the job when he'd made the mistake of letting a thirteen year old girl get a jump on him. She'd had a knife concealed in her sleeve, he'd managed to pin her before she did any damage but he'd learned his lesson about letting his guard down. These kids were a few years older than that girl had been, in a block like this it was possible they'd been involved in crime for a few years now at least. But it also meant they were unlikely to be the ringleaders, the obvious guess would be lowest level gang members looking to cement a reputation.

He spun round when the door to the floor above them opened. He held his weapon up but they had the advantage of higher ground, superior numbers and the element of surprise. The first bullet missed him, about an inch passed his head and smashing into the glass window instead, shattering it, but the second one hit him dead centre, thudding into his chest. He felt it hit his sternum, knocking all the air from his lungs, the force of it propelling him backwards.

The force of it caused him to lose his footing and then he was falling. He managed to fire off a few wild shots and then his back hit the landing, hard, knocking the air from him a second time in as many seconds. He coughed, trying desperately to get air back into his lungs, but didn't stop firing. He blinked away the dark spots that danced in front of his vision and watched as his bullets felled the four people who had attacked them. The MX's had fired with him, if he was honest with himself it was probably them that did the killing, what with their pinpoint accuracy and not having been flying through the air at the time, but he was going to lay claim to one kill at least. 

"John?" Dorian was suddenly by his side, touching the side of his face and trying to get his hazel eyes to focus on the android's bright blue ones. John blinked a few times and took a shuddering breath which just caused him to cough weakly. He realised he still held his gun up, and the strained posture was making his arm ache. There were two MX's with their weapons trained on the door, so he lowered it, just long enough to get the blood back into his arm, he told himself. 

"You're okay John." Dorian assured him. John looked down at his chest, the bullet had hit him dead centre and had ripped through the tough black fabric of his ballistic vest but had embedded itself into the ceramic protective plate. He let out a sigh of relief.

"Severe bruising to the sternum, two cracked ribs, your vest has been compromised." Dorian assessed, as if John couldn't already tell.

"Well then I guess I'd make sure I don't get shot again then." He allowed Dorian to give him a hand to haul him to his feet.

"Sir," one of the MX's started, "you injuries are significant. You should retreat and get seen by a medic."

John shook his head, he was concentrating on pushing the pain in his chest aside, hoping that once he got going again that adrenaline would keep it at bay. He checked his weapon and found it to be almost empty so changed out the clip. 

"Where are those other two?"

"Detained, next floor down. With 374." Dorian supplied.

"Okay, 374, get them outta here." He ordered, shouting over the banister to the MX below, as he strode up to the pile of bodies in the doorway to the 22nd floor and began searching them. He picked up a glock that was similar to his own police issue and checked it over before stuffing it into his belt at the small of his back.

"The rest of you, grab their guns and lets go."

"Sir," the same MX protested. "Those are evidential. They should be photographed in-situ, made safe and then bagged for the lab."

"They have been photographed, you're recording this whole miserable adventure aren't you? I'm running out of ammo, those officers upstairs have run out of ammo, there are dozens more people in this building who don't have ammo but soon would have if they stumbled across this mess. Pick up the weapons or I'll shoot you myself." Threats meant little to MX's but they made him slightly better. He was aware of them doing as they were told as he carried on up the next flight of stairs as quickly as he could. 

As they continued their hurried ascent Dorian came up level with the human detective, John was gratified to see that the android had a pilfered AK47 slung across his back and a further handgun tucked into his waist. "You okay?" He asked quietly.

"We'd be up there by now if I didn't have to argue every goddamn decision." He grumbled, checking the signage as they made it up another level. Level 24. Still 43 to go.

"How you doing up there officer?" John asked into his radio. 

A door ahead of them opened, John saw the muzzle of a gun brandished at him, and then there was a loud crack and the guy was down, slumped against the doorframe, the heavy door swung back on him but he was already dead. Dorian's handgun was smoking. Neither of them even slowed their pace.

"Officer? You hear me?" John asked on the radio again. The question was more of a command, 'you'd better answer and stop scaring the crap out of us', his tone said. 

"Just... hurry." Was the reply. 

"Kennex? Sit rep?" Came the gruff voice of Captain Agkibe.

"Power's out. We're 26th floor, ascending south stairwell. 6 perps down, 2 detained. 374 is bringing them out now. I have 2 MX's and Dorian with me. The other two were taken out."

"Okay, I have a team ready to go. You've made it your show, where do you want us?" The superior officer asked, deferring responsibility. This was one of the many reasons John liked the man, he had earned the rank and knew when to use it, but he was always capable of stepping back should someone else be in a better position to direct proceedings. It showed a lot of trust, although John knew if he said the wrong thing it'd be Agkibe's way or no way at all.

"They're expecting us here in the south. Come on up, guns blazing, draw their fire. We'll sneak round to the north, hopefully make it up without too much resistance."

"Guns blazing, think we can do that." John could practically hear the smirk in the other man's voice. "Let's get this done Kennex, then I'll buy you a beer."

"Yes Sir." John acknowledged.

Just then there was a shout and the sound of running feet above them. More gunfire erupted, being shot down from two floors above them. It was easily avoided, by stepping back closer to the wall. The idiots had just given their position away.

But then something was thrown down to land with a metallic clang, coming to rest at John's feet. He looked down at the small object at his boot. There was barely enough time to register it as a grenade before Dorian snatched it up. The android grabbed it with his right hand before running to the window and driving his left elbow into it hard enough to smash the reinforced glass. Dorian waited a beat, then lobbed it, harder and faster than any baseball pitcher, throwing it up and out. Luckily there was little in the way. The buildings beyond the window were all about four or fives storeys high so they were well above them, and with Dorian's throw the grenade reached another twenty metres high before it exploded. Beyond the bang of the explosion, they heard glass shatter as the shockwaves took out some of the windows in the closer floors, and there were a couple of screams as the skirmish got a little too close for comfort for some of the residents cowering in their apartments, but very little actual damage was done.

There was a curse from above as the latest little team of criminals realised what had happened and then running as they started down the stairs. John frowned at their stupidity and came up to meet them, calmly taking them out before they had the chance to fire back. 3 more down, 38 levels to go. 

"That was pretty cool." John told his partner as they continued, although by now he expected little else from his robotic friend, and the casual tone in his voice told him as much.

"It's easy if you can do the calculations." Dorian said. "It was well designed, but definitely home made. I'd assume they'd have more of them."

John nodded. "Three second timer?" He asked.

"Little less, 2.83 seconds. They may not be exact if they were made illegally."

John nodded, "Boss," he said over the radio, "our residents have home made grenades, pin-pull activated, more or less three seconds on the clock. Possibly made on site."

"Noted Kennex, you okay up there?"

"Peachy." He muttered back.

Down below they heard the team racing into the bottom of the stairwell to start their ascent.

"Come on." John indicated the door to their current level. "Let's get a change of scenery."

They went through the door to the residential corridor with practiced ease, allowing the two remaining MX's to go first. It was empty, thankfully most of the residents were sensible enough to stay locked inside out of the way of the bloodbath that this was quickly becoming.

They took the corridor at a jog, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to give away their position to anyone who might be sympathisers to the gunmen.

When a door behind them opened, John spun round, his rubber heel squeaking against the linoleum floor. He was so tensed that he nearly squeezed the trigger before taking stock. Peering out from behind a half opened door was a young girl, about five years old with pale skin and a mass of curly dark hair. She was dressed in jeans that were too big for her and a blue tee shirt that had a hole in the shoulder from wear. Her bare feet looked filthy.

"Get inside." John hissed. No way to speak to a child but he needed the kid out of the way and fear could be a good way to get people to do what you want. It didn't work, instead she just burst into tears.

"Where's daddy?" She asked through her sobs. She must've been on the verge of crying for a while because suddenly she was blubbing, tears streaming, nose running, her cheeks turned red.

"Hey," Dorian said gently, holstering his weapon and approaching her. "We're not going to hurt you. We just really need you to go back inside and wait for your dad where it's safe." He crouched down to her level and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"That's... what he... said." She said, struggling to speak through the chest-heaving sobs. "But.. Jamie won't stop... crying and I... don't know... what to do..."

"Who's Jamie? Your little brother?"

She nodded.

"Okay, well it's important you go back in and keep Jamie safe." Dorian looked up and noticed the less than patient expression on John's face.

"Give me a minute, I'll catch you up?" He asked.

John nodded and carried on into the north stairwell, trusting his partner to do the right thing. He wasn't normally insensitive to kids, despite what Dorian believed, but thoughts of seven years ago and the two officers trapped on the 67th floor hung heavy in his mind, they didn't have time to play babysitter.

He and the MX's made it up another six floors before the DRN caught up with them.

"All sorted?" He asked through gritted teeth. He had to admit to being slightly annoyed with the android, they had a job to do, but Mr Bleeding-Heart had to get side-tracked. Arguing about it now wouldn't help though, and he knew he'd more than likely lose and come off looking like a jerk if he tried. 

Dorian nodded, "I found a neighbour willing to look after them." He explained. "Took a few tries to get someone to come to the door. Most are too scared to open up."

John nodded, but said no more.

"John, I think we killed their father." Dorian admitted quietly. "Her facial structure matched one of the men who attacked us."

"He shouldn't have attacked us then." John frowned. Level 37, level 38, he counted off in his head. Still 30 floors, this felt never-ending, how much worse did it feel for those two officers trapped and relying on them? How badly was Brady hurt? Would they be too late? Level 39, level 40.

"That doesn't mean those kids deserve to be fatherless though. I asked about their mother... we've just created two orphans." Dorian, despite the fact they were in no less danger than a few minutes previously, was allowing himself to get upset.

"You want to talk about this now?" John growled, "Focus Dorian!"

"I'm just a little angry that you can be so dismissive." Dorian said, he was getting his emotion filled voice under control, but he clearly was refusing to back down on this.

"Yeah, well I'm angry that their a scumbag father could leave his two kids, knowing he was the only one they had to look after him, and go throw his life away trying to kill us. We can hug and you can cry it out later if you want to, right now we don't have time." He said it so harshly that he half expected Dorian to burst into tears, just like the little girl had done, but of course he didn't, the android just set his jaw and said no more on the subject. 

At the other end of the block they could hear shouting and gunfire as Agkibe's team engaged with the residents. They were certainly making enough noise, the whole block would be able to hear them. And it seemed to be working, since the other team had started shooting, John's team hadn't had any trouble. They carried on up, quietly but quickly. Now they were so close John sped up. Just hang in there, he mentally projected to the two officers upstairs. 

A loud bang then shook the building, causing further screams from inside. It appeared to have come from the south side and was accompanied by further shouts and gunfire. The radio burst with shouts and orders being flung about, it sounded bad, Agkibe was telling them to fall back and someone, a male, was screaming hysterically. John had to fight his instincts not to turn around and go back to help them, but he knew he had his own job to get on with.

They made the last few floors in record time and soon they were at the 67th floor. John stopped a moment and took a deep breath, wincing in pain as he did. His ribs hurt, he knew there was already likely to be some spectacular bruising, but he couldn't think about that now. There was a loud repetitive banging coming from somewhere on the floor, like someone was slamming something with a heavy object. He signalled for the MX's to come forward. Another deep, nerve-steadying breath and they pushed on through. 

The gunfire began just as soon as they went through the door. The MX's lead with John and Dorian right behind them, using the bots as cover. 6707 was their target, the metal door still looked secure, which heartened John for just a second. The door to the apartment next to it, 6705 was open though with two males holding AK's stood in the doorway. They were quick to react but John was quicker, he took down the one on the left with a double tap, as he was just starting to raise his rifle. One of the MX's shot the one on the right but he ducked so the bullet caught his shoulder rather than centre mass. He cried out in pain and slid to the floor against the door frame, leaving a bloody mark on the flaking white paint. As he fell he squeezed the trigger, spraying them with bullets. The MX's absorbed them stoically, until one hit the head of the MX that John was stood behind and collapsed. Dorian pushed John back and stood in front of him, taking a bullet that would have hit John in the stomach as he raised his handgun and fired, putting a bullet of his own right between the man's eyes. 

John opened his mouth to say thank you but didn't have a chance as the door to an apartment further down the corridor opened a fraction and someone stuck the muzzle of a handgun out, firing blind so that they were protected behind the door. Dorian sprinted forward, avoiding the bullets and grabbed the top of the handgun, unbothered by the heated metal. He clamped his hand down on it hard, so that the slide couldn't click back into place and draw the next bullet into the chamber. With his other hand he wrenched the door open. 

It was a middle aged woman on the other side, thin with a hard jaw line. She had no hair, like a lot of people in the block she likely had radiation cancer, John felt a moment of pity for her as he watched Dorian disarm and handcuff her, which he did with his usual care.

The banging sound had stopped, there was a shout from inside 6705, "Hey, you good out there?" and then someone else came to the door to investigate, a young man in his twenties covered in some sort of grey dust. He froze when he saw the dead men in the door then looked up to realise he was staring right down the barrel of John's gun. The young man had a gun of his own but thought better of using it. He dropped it and put his hands on his head without even being asked. John put a hand on his shoulder and guided him out to the corridor.

John didn't want to lower his weapon so he had the MX handcuff the man instead. He didn't want whoever was left to be alerted to their presence, so he walked the man down to where Dorian was with the woman and shoved him down to sit on the floor and indicated to the woman that she do the same. Once they were both sitting with their backs against the hallway wall he used hand signals to the MX to get him to stay with them and cover the hallway with fire if necessary, then gestured for Dorian to follow him. As they passed the apartment the two officers had said they were trapped in, John pressed his hand on the door. It was locked shut. He hoped that was a good thing and carried on to next door, there were more suspects inside and it would make sense to clear them out first. 

As they stepped into the flat John caught a familiar whiff. It was a hard smell to explain, but any inner city cop would recognise the smell of crack. That was to be expected though, half the block likely smelled the same, but it was mixed with another smell, gasoline, which worried him a lot more. They'd have to be careful about firing their weapons.

The apartment was bare, pale blue paint had peeled off and littered the bare cement floor. It had been carpeted once, the gripper rails were still in place but had been unused in some time. Each apartment was the same, narrow corridor, bathroom and then bedroom on the left, second bedroom on the right, straight ahead for a living room with kitchenette.

They went in quickly, clearing each room as they went, John taking the right, Dorian the left, until they both ended up in the living room. It was a mess, the TV which had once been mounted to the wall had been thrown to the side and there was a hole in the concrete wall, almost a metre wide, going through to the apartment next door, apartment 6707. Below the hole, a sledgehammer lay on the floor coated in the crumbling bits of concrete, a failed attempt to get to the officers on the other side.

There were two men in the room, and John and Dorian aimed their handguns at them.

"Drop your weapons!" John ordered, "Hands on your head!" The two men glanced at each other and then the one nearest, aimed his gun and fired. The bullet was aimed at Dorian's head but he dodged and fired back, felling the man in one smooth move. The other man didn't respond.

"Think you know we're not playing here." John growled, "I'm not going to ask you again."

The man was a guy in his forties with thinning hair, the kind who spent considerable time at the gym but who drank enough beer to have a gut to go with his biceps.

"It's over." John reiterated.

The man dropped his gun to the floor and raised his hands lazily, a grin spread across his face. "You know I was the one that killed them."

Panic flared in John, had he been too late again? But the man continued.

"Seven years ago I killed three pigs, now I'm going to kill some more." And then his hand shot into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling out a zippo lighter. Time seemed to slow down as John realised where the smell of gasoline was from, he'd soaked himself and the sofa in it, wide trails of it splashed about the floor. 

"No!" John yelled, as the self-confessed murderer flicked the ignition on his lighter. The flame lit blue, made bigger by all the gasoline in the air. It caught the man's hand alight almost immediately, bright blue flames engulfing his arm. He dropped the zippo, still alight and it ignited the floor, great big tendrils of fire leaping across the apartment in an effort to engulf everything.

John glanced into the hole to the other apartment but couldn't see anyone. Had they managed to get through? Had he and Dorian been too late.

"Officer, you still here?" John shouted into his radio as Dorian grabbed his arm and dragged him from the room.

"Yes." She called back. "Fucking hell is that a fire? This place is full of explosive."

John and Dorian got outside to find the MX with the two suspects. "There's a fire! Everyone out now!" John bellowed, he turned to Dorian. "You and the MX, clear as many floors as you can."

"What about you?" Dorian argued.

"Just go!" John shot back, not angry like he had been earlier, but just desperate.

There was a click and then the door to apartment 6707 opened. There was a female officer behind it, she looked exhausted, her dark hair escaping her bun, blood on her uniform jacket. A lot of blood. There was a tear in her sleeve, and her right arm was soaked, she'd been shot. 

"You need to get out of here." John said urgently. 

"Not without my partner." She replied, heading back in. John, glanced round and was thankful that Dorian and the MX were gone. The hallway was rapidly starting to fill with smoke. People had started to come out of their doors and rush towards the stairs. John ignored it all and followed the woman in, ignoring, as she had, the MX slumped dead in the hall. 

Straight ahead was the living room, John caught a glimpse of a large table laid out with tools and what looked like lab equipment. Under the table was a jerry-can of some sort of liquid and a stack of four bags of fertiliser. The makings of home-made IEDs. There were bodies there too, he could see at least two and the arm of a third, the rest of whom was out of shot. He wondered who had taken them out, the destroyed MX or the diminutive officer in front of him. He didn't have time to study it though as he was lead him into the first bedroom.

The room was just big enough for a double bed shoved up against the wall. Laying on it in a pool of blood was a man in his thirties. He was wearing combat boots and uniform trousers but had been stripped of the rest of his uniform so that his wound could be seen. It was a gut wound, just left of centre and there was an awful smell which told John that the man's intestines had been perforated. The wound had been dressed in white trauma bandages, wrapped tightly around his stomach, the dressings looked good but blood was still seeping through. The officer, Brady, John remembered, was unconscious. That at least, was a relief, John didn't want him awake for what he was about to do now.

"Help me with him." John ordered, as he knelt with one knee on the bed. He grabbed the guy's arms and hauled him into a sitting position. The female officer, he still didn't know her name and had no time to ask, saw what he was doing and clambered onto the bed to help. If her injured arm was hurting her, she didn't show it, and together they hauled Brady forward until John could get his shoulder into the bend at the cop's waist and then stand, lifting him into a fireman's carry. 

"Run!" He ordered, although he didn't have to, the female officer was out the door immediately and he followed as fast as he could. Brady hung heavy on his shoulder, blood soaking into the back of John's clothing. 

He got out into the corridor which was now full of thick, acrid smoke. People were screaming and rushing for the stairwell. An elderly man was stood in his doorway, struggling out on unsteady feet. Someone knocked into him in their haste to get out and nearly sent him flying. The female officer took his arm and hurried him out towards the stairs.

He watched them disappear through the heavy door, the last people left on the floor. He was right behind them when there was a deafening bang and he was flung forward by a hot blast, taking him completely off his feet. 

His ears rang and he couldn't breathe in the thick, toxic air. His body hurt all over and for a second he glanced to his side, looking for Pelham, before remembering where he was. Then someone touched his face and looked up into the eyes of the female officer. Her face was obscured by red, as blood streamed into his eye. He could see her moving her lips but couldn't hear her, the ringing in his ears was too loud. 

He could feel someone else shifting the weight from his shoulder, and that made him want to cling on all the more. Brady was his to look after, he couldn't allow anyone to take him, but the other officer wiped some of the blood from his cheek and gave him a grim but comforting smile, saying something he couldn't hear. Gradually he released his burden. 

He got his shaking hands underneath him and tried to push himself up, everything hurt, muscles tight and skin felt shredded. The female officer, Michaels, her name tag read, moved to help him and gripped his left arm. Someone else gripped his right and he turned, blinking the blood away to see Dorian. He had taken Brady and had him slung over his shoulder, keeping him in place with an arm wrapped round his legs. Dorian was saying something too, but he couldn't hear, so gave him a grim smile and allowed the two of them to haul him to his feet. 

His legs were unsteady but they held, each step caused pain to shoot up his body, from feet to head, culminating in a headache that seemed to be getting worse with each step. Michael's kept hold of his arm to support him as they started down the stairs slowly. Dorian hovered by his side, as sure-footed as always, ready to jump into action should his partner falter. Panicked residents ran passed them in their crazed attempts to exit the building, paying the small group of injured officers no mind. John was thankful though that someone had at least deigned to help the old man, a young woman was helping him down just below them, making greater time than the group of cops were doing.

John was struggling to put one foot in front of the other, each step down was painful. Someone nudged into them, whether by accident or in some sort of subtle vindictiveness he couldn't say, but suddenly his legs gave way and he pitched forward. He was saved from sprawling face first down the stairs by Michaels who gripped him tightly and steadied him. 

He looked into her eyes and gave her a smile of gratitude, although he imagined he probably looked quite scary with blood pouring from his face. She gave him a weary smile back and said something. She looked pained, he noticed, and then remembered he was hanging his weight on her and that she had been shot. But he knew if he allowed her to lessen her grip then he'd end up going for another nosedive. But although she was in pain, she also had a steely determination that he found himself admiring. She hadn't been unscathed from the blast either, there was a large, deep graze along her jaw that was weeping blood, he assumed from hitting the concrete floor and she moved stiffly, as though her uniform was hiding a multitude of other wounds. She wasn't complaining though, just kept glancing between John at her side and Brady on Dorian's back, with a look of tamped down fear.

By the time they got down into the lobby and hobbled out onto the street, John had completely lost track of time. The sun had set some time while they'd been in the building, how long ago, he couldn't tell. The blue and red flashing lights of the police vehicles and ambulances were almost blinding and hurt his eyes, which sounded silly considering the state the rest of him was in, but it was just one more thing to increase the pounding in his head. He stared at the organised chaos in front of them, human officers and MX's were corralling evacuated residents away from the building and were assisting paramedics in determining who, if anyone, needed medical care. 

By the police cars and the armoured people carrier of the Tactical Assault Division, stood Captain Agkibe with Captain Maldonado. The pair of them saw the ragged group and started shouting orders. A pair of paramedics came forward with a gurney and they helped Dorian place Brady on it, one strapping him on for safety while the other made a start on checking his vital signs. 

Michaels stopped and said something to John. He couldn't hear her but he got the gist. Dorian came to his side and took hold of him as he released his grip and allowed Michaels to slip away from him.

"Thank you." He said to her, unable to hear his own voice and hoping he wasn't shouting. She smiled at him, her eyes filled with unshed tears and gave his arm a squeeze before jogging after the paramedics, needing to be with her partner.

Dorian turned John towards another ambulance and walked him towards it. The crew was with the crowd of residents but soon noticed and jogged over. With practiced ease they helped him to sit on the gurney and eased him up into the vehicle. Dorian helped him sit up on the thin mattress as they eased his ballistic vest off and then cut away the clothing from his upper body to access the wounds. It hurt and John shut his eyes and breathed through the pain. 

When he opened them again, a moment later, he realised he'd taken Dorian's hand and was gripping it tightly in his own, and that Maldonado and Agkibe were stood at the foot of his gurney in the open doors to the ambulance. He supposed he should have been embarrassed at being caught holding Dorian's hand but he found he couldn't bring himself to care, and the android didn't look ready to give it up either. 

Maldonado was saying something but he just smiled at her tiredly and waved his free hand at his ear. Dorian spoke too and John assumed he was explaining what had happened. Agkibe was saying something back, but Maldonado fished her phone out of her pocket and started typing. The paramedic primed a needle and injected something into the crook of his arm. As the fluid worked around his body, he could feel the pain melt away.

Maldonado put her phone back in her pocket and then John felt his own phone vibrate against his leg. He pulled it out with clumsy fingers and read the message he'd just been sent.

'They think Brady's gonna be okay. You're in big trouble with us both, but I'm proud of you. X' John lay back against the gurney, looked up into the face of his concerned partner and laughed in relief, feeling like a seven year old burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Everything was going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Well thanks for reading my first offering to AO3. I've been trying to keep Almost Human alive on ff.net for a while now but I'm making the jump in the hope of finding others who are as obsessed with this show as I am. Looking forward to hearing what you think of it.


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